


Pair of jeans

by CrazyChicken



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyChicken/pseuds/CrazyChicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last time Moritz had worn this pair of jeans, Leo had been the one to take them off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pair of jeans

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for an anonymous request on Tumblr. I'm not too familiar with this pairing so I apologise if they seem out of character.

“Do you like these jeans?” Moritz asked, hiding behind one of the doors as he was digging out his wardrobe. He reappeared holding up a pair of light faded jeans Leo knew all too well. They were a bit too wide and used to hang low on Moritz’ hips when he wore them, but lately they had been stuffed away in the back of his closet, not much unlike the memories of the day he had last worn them.

Leo knew why he didn’t wear them anymore. Sometimes, when he was particularly brave, he would confront him and ask why Moritz never wore them now, and the latter liked to answer that the loose fit was ‘so last season’, but Leo knew better. Last time he had worn them, Leo had been there to take them off, and despite their close friendship, that wasn’t something Moritz was fond to be reminded off.

Leo had had a bit too much alcohol that night – must have had something to do with Dortmund’s victory over Malaga – and Moritz was bringing him to his room to make sure he survived the route to his bed. And as he was tucking him in, it was really easy; in the rush of the moment with just the right amount of alcohol racing through Mo’s body that was towering over him big and beautiful all of a sudden, and a tiny spark in his eyes that was supposed to be a warning before one thing led to another.

There was something desperate in the way Moritz touched him then. Quick, as if he wanted to roam everywhere at once and had no idea where to begin, until his hands instinctively guided Leo’s to his zipper – he remembered how good the pants looked, already revealing a piece of naked skin. Moritz’ underwear was barely down when Leo tentatively brought a hand down and stroked gently – one, twice – and Moritz didn’t need much.

The sight of Leo underneath him, small drops of sweat on his forehead and the confused yet desiring look in his eyes. The pent-up frustration of not being able to touch him like he wanted and then the unexpected touch to his cock was enough for Moritz. The anticipation being fulfilled, yet so far away. He came over the jeans that were still on his knees; he tried to stop himself from shaking but he failed, and he could feel his limbs growing weak.

It was silent and calm and if it wasn’t for the white stains on the pants, Leo would have sworn nothing ever happened. They stared at each other for two more seconds before Moritz wordlessly backed off, redressed himself, and left the room.

They didn’t talk about it the next day, or the next week. When they played Madrid away, they purposely didn’t share a hotel room, and they both knew, but they still didn’t talk about it. They talked about all the things they used to talk about, transfer gossips and TV-shows and clothes, but not about that one pair of jeans.

And it was good. By not discussing it, their friendship had returned to its original shape and there was nothing awkward between them. Except for the fact that Leo often thought about that night in the shower, or that Leo was still wondering if it had been real, or intentional; he wondered if it had been a purposeful accident on Moritz’ side, and if the latter was still thinking about it too.

It had all been fine and he had been able to live with the doubt, but now that they were both leaving, it seemed a lot more important, like there something definitive about this goodbye, unlike many other goodbyes they had said, and figuring out Moritz’ feelings seemed like Leo’s way of gaining closure.

“Leo?” Moritz said, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Yeah?”

“I asked you if you liked these jeans.”

“Why?” Leo loved them. The stains were still there – it must have been unwashed ever since. He loved the proof that they had been real, that what he wanted to have had been his only a few months ago. But he needed to know if Mo loved it too, if Mo wanted the proof as well, or if maybe it hadn’t meant that much after all.

“I don’t think I’ll take them to Stuttgart. You know I haven’t worn them since – since they are so last season.”

Moritz’ face turned red as he almost stumbled over his favourite lie.

“So yeah. I was thinking maybe you’d like to take them from me,” he continued more softly, his eyes fixed on the carpet. “To remind you of me, you know.” It was supposed to be a joke, but it wasn’t.

“We don’t have the same size,” Leo protested, but his heart was beating in the back of throat with nervous excitement about absolutely nothing. It was just a dumb piece of clothing.

“Yes, we do,” Moritz exclaimed. As he looked up, Leo saw a fire in his eyes that gave away that this wasn’t just about a pair of jeans.

“No, you’re much taller.”

“You can cut the legs so they fit.”

“It won’t be the same.”

They stared at each other for a few intense moments. Leo’s heart was racing because they weren’t really talking about it, yet he was finding all the answers to the questions he had been pondering on for weeks. But he wasn’t sure if he liked them.

“I think it’s best if you keep them,” Leo eventually said calmly, when he had let all the words sink, and all the moments they had shared. “Or give them to someone that fits them better, or someone who doesn’t think they’re last season. Because quite frankly, I don’t want them.”

Which was a lie. There was only one thing Leo wanted more than to own those jeans, but he didn’t want to end up like that desperate kind of guy that sniffs his old friend’s clothes every day, hoping for him to return. He was nineteen for god’s sake. He wasn’t going to sit and let life pass him by, waiting for that one person to come back to him. Refusing the offer was just taking precautions.

“Okay,” Moritz answered calmly and Leo watched his slender fingers fold the fabric and putting it in his own suitcase. _He’s keeping it._ He stood still for a few seconds, looking at the suitcase while he seemed to be hesitating. Then he turned around and looked at his friend. “I’ll have it in Stuttgart if you change your mind. You can always come and pick it up. I mean, anytime.”

Which meant that he, or anyone else, wasn’t going to wear the jeans. They would be stored somewhere safely, too painful to wear, but too precious to throw away.

“Thanks,” Leo smiled and Moritz smiled back.

So maybe they weren’t going to smell each other’s clothes to replace their presence. They were going to have fun in Stuttgart and Hannover, they were going to meet people and do things and go places. But their hearts would be locked away, waiting for the other’s return.


End file.
